


Who Can Stop Me

by fallen_timbers_pencil



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Period-Typical Racism, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_timbers_pencil/pseuds/fallen_timbers_pencil
Summary: Phillip encounters his parents after the fire twice and makes clear what is most important to him.Mostly fluff, but some Carlyle family angst as well.





	Who Can Stop Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on this website ever. I plan to write more PhillipxAnne works in the future because I fell in love with the Greatest Showman and I cannot get enough of it. I have read almost every story labeled Phillip/Anne, so what better to do than write your own fics when you run out of ones to read? Enjoy!

Phillip sat at the small desk near his bed. The caravan he lived in wasn’t large. He’d decided on one of the smaller ones, leaving the bigger ones for the performers. He didn’t need much space anyway, as he spent most of his time with the circus acts across anyway. He wrote slowly on the pieces of paper he had. Though he didn’t miss his old life, he did miss writing and often found himself writing short stories, little meaningless scribbles about life. Most of his little blurbs came from life at the circus and he had a pile of stories, no more than five pages each, stacked in the drawer under his bed. Perhaps they could be stories to tell any future generations within the circus. The people within the circus seemed to enjoy each other’s company and Phillip had no doubt that there would be romances between the performers. Perhaps even future generations of circus born performers. Though he was sure that Helen and Caroline wouldn’t refuse one of his written stories. 

A knock at his door pulled him from his desk and he eased up out of the chair, crossing the floor in barefeet to answer. He was surprised to see Lettie standing at his stairs. Her face was lined with worry. His own brow furrowed and he asked with concern, “What is it?”

She pointed back in the direction of the circus tent. “Your parents are here.” He followed her finger and spotted his father’s carriage parked outside, the driver holding the horses reins. A sharp pain in his chest shocked him and he broke into a violent cough. He turned away, feeling pain in his lungs, rattling with each breath. He fought the urge to gag with each deep cough. Though the fits were rare anymore, they were violent and made his body ache like nothing else. 

It hadn’t been long since the fire. He’d been allowed to leave the hospital under supervision and no strenuous work for a few weeks. The circus tent and accommodations had been worked on since Phineas had bought the lot by the docks. The tent was set up, but getting the high risers, and the trapeze ropes and wires was taking some time. The lead ringmaster was also working on getting some new animals and acts for upcoming shows. They had several hands come into their service as technician help and extra hands for props and special effects. 

Phillip had been on the mend, not permitted to strain himself too much due to his hoarse voice and shortness of breath. He could feel himself getting better everyday, the wound on his head healing as well as the burns on his torso. The scars were going to be crude, shiny and disfiguring, but most of them were under his clothing. Though he hated being useless while the show was being recreated, he had no other choice. Anytime he tried to escape and do some work, Anne always caught him and forced him to return back to rest. And if she didn't catch him, she had personally assigned her brother to hunt him down whenever he tried to do any work. And W.D. put the fear of God into Phillip. Now, he just tried to listen to what the doctor had prescribed. It did mean more time spent with Anne, time very much cherished by himself. But now, his parents had come to finish their previous business. They had been less than pleasant in every encounter with them since the fire. He didn’t want or need the extra hassle of trying to convince them that he was happy in his current situation and nothing would change his mind. 

“I’ll be right there,” He finally answered her, straightening his wrinkled white shirt. He shut the door as she turned away and found his shoes, pulling them on with a sigh. He rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to ease some of the discomfort he felt there. He didn’t want to face his parents. He hadn’t spoken with them since they visited at the hospital. He remembered the unpleasant encounter with a grimace, pulling on a black jacket with little trouble, quite the accomplishment since the few days after he'd been released. 

 

_Phillip sat up, ignoring the pain that assaulted him. From what he could tell, he had a few burns along the lower left side of his ribs. They were painful, itchy and ugly on his skin. He was a bit ashamed of them when the nurses changed his bandages, knowing that they would always mar his skin. He was only able to ignore his burns and hacking cough by Anne’s presence. She hardly left the hospital, only disappearing for a few hours at a time, typically when he slept._

_But when she was at his side, sitting on the edge of his bed, he knew it was worth it. He would run into any fire if it meant saving her. He loved her and she loved him, a fact she had stated after stealing his breath away with their first kiss._

_It was on his third day in the hospital that someone had decided to contact his parents. Phillip had suggested perhaps that she leave to avoid his parents again, but she firmly shook her head and scooped up his hand again, pressing it to her cheek. “No,” she had refused. “I’m not afraid of what they have to say.”_

_He simply smiled at her, unable to believe that this was real, this was happening. He always was filled with excitement at the thought of a future with her and now that it was in the cards, he could hardly control himself. He was certain his parents wouldn’t see it that way though._

_He was right. As soon as he caught sight of his mother and father, looking angry and afraid, storming past the other hospital beds, he gripped Anne’s hand tighter from where she sat on his right side. Despite her earlier bravado, she avoided looking at his parents._

_“Phillip!” his mother exclaimed in a choked voice. “Oh darling, look at you.” She ignored Anne entirely, sitting down to sweep her gloved hands over his face and hair._

_His father paused just behind Mrs. Carlyle, his stony eyes examining his son before flicking to Anne. He didn’t bother to hide his disdain. “She knew before us?” his words held an accusing tone, snarky and agitated._

_Phillip held out a hand, halting his mother’s administrations. She stopped and stood up straight again, turning her disbelieving eyes on the young woman at her husband’s words. It seemed as if his mother was only just realizing that Anne was indeed here before them. “Phillip!” she exclaimed again, placing a hand to her chest._

_Anne shifted, as if to leave and Phillip tightened his grip ever so slightly on her hand. Her eyes watched him, trying to remain logical and not emotional. He could tell she was trying hard, her bottom lip trembling a bit as it did the night at the theatre. He gave her a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to his parents. “Yes, she did know before you. I did this for her. I’m sure you saw the headlines about the fire. I went back inside the Circus to find her. And I would do so again, a thousand times over.” His voice was weak, cracked, and his hacking cough threatened to burst past his lips and interrupt him. He ignored it. “I meant what I said to you at the theatre. I won’t be part of any life where such disrespect and coarseness is shown towards a woman I love.”_

_His mother looked taken aback by his words and his father gripped the end of the bed with white knuckles. Anne only stared at him, eyes filled to the brim with happy tears and love filled Phillip’s chest, replacing his need to cough._

_“You’re throwing away your life, Phillip. What of your inheritance? What of your play writing and your life with us? Have you forgotten us so quickly?” His mother rambled, drawing closer and closer to her husband._

_Phillip shrugged. “It’s not my place anymore. And as for you, of course, I still love you. But Anne as much a part of my life now as you both are, more now. The only difference is I am willing to part with my past if need be, not my future.” His words were followed with awkward silence, the implication in his words left to be dissected. His mother finally started to cry and Mr. Carlyle tried to hush her as nurses started to cast glances their way._

_He could feel the disbelief roll off Anne. “You can’t give that up for me. You can’t give up your family for me.” She murmured to him as his father tried to console his mother._

_Phillip shook his head, pulling her closer to his side from where she sat on the bed. “The circus is my family now too. If my parents insist on this closed mindedness, they have no part in my life anymore. I’m not a boy that they can sway so easily anymore. This is my decision and I will stick to it.”_

_Anne’s dark eyes searched his face, as if looking for any hesitance but seemed to realize he was genuine. “And your inheritance? I’m sure it’s not just a few family heirlooms.” She pointed out._

_“Everything I have now is worth more than any inheritance I could receive.”_

_A tear spilled over Anne’s cheek, tracing its way down the curve of her skin. He felt the urge to kiss her again, but his parents had rounded on them and his father retorted, “If that’s how it shall be, then you shall receive no inheritance. I won’t have my money wasted on circus costumes and quadroon children.”_

_Phillip jutted out his chin, trying to force down a wave of coughing. “If that’s what you want, father. I’ve got what I need. You may go unless you can be civil.” He stated with finality. His mother looked pale, tears still wetting her cheeks. His father grinded his teeth, his jaw shifting. He was afraid they would be adamant and refuse to leave, perhaps even demanding that Anne leave as well._

_But to his relief, his father took up his wife’s arm and gave his son a pointed look. “You will be hearing from us. You’re obviously not well and not thinking clearly because of the morphine. We will be back,” he said flatly, not bothering to hide his scorn. “If you change your mind before we return, you know where we will be.”_

_Phillip met his father’s eyes. “And you know where I will be if you change yours.”_

 

Phillip walked slowly across the lot, waving to O’Clancy and Fedor, who were carrying some furniture to be placed within the tents. He ducked inside the closed canvas, eyes immediately seeking out the two figures he’d been dreading to encounter. He knew this was coming, but they were still his parents. 

They were once people he looked up to.

He saw them then, standing awkwardly near some of the high risers. The sliver of hope that they’d been there to announce their change of heart was quickly shredded. The disgust in their eyes was plain and it seemed as if they refused to sit even on the high rising seats. He walked over stiffly, acting as a partner to the circus approaching another businessman. He held out a hand to his father to shake, which Mr. Carlyle ignored.

“Father, Mother, I see you’ve come to make good on your word then?” Phillip greeted nonchalantly, lowering his hand. 

“Yes. We’ve written you out of our will,” Mr. Carlyle growled. “Do not expect any more monetary benefits from me or the Carlyle name again.” 

His mother was silent, hurt in her eyes. Phillip hated that he was the one to put it there, but his heart remained steadfast. He was committed to this circus and its people. He was committed to Anne. He wished they could see what amazing people they were, see the future that Phillip saw with Anne. But they were old-fashioned, close-minded and acted irrationally against those who were different from them.

And Phillip could no longer pretend for the sake of his reputation or for the benefits of money. “Good day then,” Phillip finally replied, stepping back away from the canvas. “We have a show every Friday, if you’d ever like to stop by.”

Mr. Carlyle ignored him and stormed out. But his mother came close to him and hugged him tightly. “Please don’t do this Phillip. I can’t lose my son.”

Phillip entry pried her fingers away from him, but kept his grip on her forearms. “I’m not doing it. I wish you two could see that I am happy now, more than I have ever been. I haven’t even touched a drop of liquor since saving Anne. I wish you could be proud of me and the Circus. But I will not walk away from this life. I can’t. I won’t. I love the magic of the show, the fun, the camaraderie and the family I have here. I love Anne and I would like to marry her one day. That is my life now and I wouldn’t go back on it for all the inheritance the Carlyle name has to offer.” With his words, he realized just how much he loved the life he had. He _could_ see it. Maybe one day he would run the circus alone, be able to act as ringmaster more than when P.T. was away. He _would_ marry Anne. Phillip wanted nothing more than to have this love forever, to look forward to the rest of his life in work he adored and with people he cherished. And perhaps, one day, maybe he and Anne could have children of their own, to love as fiercely as they loved one another. 

His mother, however, couldn't "remove her blinders", instead preferring to be ignorant to the way her husband treated any person of color. She was oblivious to the way her son felt about Anne, instead choosing to only see the color of her skin. Mrs. Carlyle’s face twisted with grief but also irritation. It was not becoming of her. “Our love is not enough?” she scoffed scathingly.

Phillip let go of her, backing up again. His chest hurt and he fought the urge to cough or scratch a bandage under his clothing. “Mother, that’s not the point. Please. I don’t want to argue this further.”

She watched him a moment longer with saddened eyes before whisking out of the tent. Phillip followed a little more slowly, only catching the sight of his father helping her up into the carriage. Mr. Carlyle shot him a poisonous look before he climbed after her. “I have no son.”

Phillip stood there stoically until the horses pulled them well down the road, before turning and fleeing into the circus. The cough finally erupted and he became short of breath, pausing to lean against the firm wood of the high risers. Once he’d caught his breath, a feat that became a little easier every time, he continued his search.

His feet led him to the little lounge area set up in one of the connecting tents. It was the furthest from the main tent, much smaller and cozier. They’d brought in a plush sofa and a few rugs and chairs. Anne was curled up in one of the armchairs, her feet tucked under her as she sewed together a hole in a flamboyant red costume. Her eyes raised up and she looked surprised. “Phillip. I was looking for you earlier, but Lettie said you had some business to attend.” He crossed over to the sofa and sat down, taking deep breaths to steady his heartbeat. He heard shuffling and soon Anne had curled up beside him there, rubbing his back. “Is it still hard to get air in? You should rest more, the circus will get on along fine a few hours without you busting a lung.”

Glancing over, he met her eyes. They were an amber brown, flecked with gold and shining. A smile brightened her features and he couldn’t resist the smile that crossed his face. “I’m alright. Just a little winded,” He reassured her. He wrung his hands together, unsettled by his parents’ visit. He hadn’t expected them to understand his choice. But he had hoped that maybe they would try to understand that he was happy. It seemed however that they were determined to make him believe that his place was among the highbrows and swells.

Maybe once. Not anymore.

“My parents came by,” He added a few moments later. He could feel her stiffen beside him and she quickly tried to correct herself by relaxing immediately. “I am officially without an inheritance.”

Anne leaned back away from him and he could feel her eyes observing him. He turned to look at her, left knee pulling up slightly as he twisted his body. But instead of her questioning his motives again as he suspected she would, Anne smiled wider and rested her head of curly hair onto one hand. “So, Mr. Carlyle,” She drawled. “What are your big plans now?”

He fully turned towards her, pulling a hand up to his chin. “Well,” He started. “I was thinking about running away to the circus. There’s the most amazing people there. And this woman . . . I love her. I think I will start there.” His nerves already started to calm as he stared at her. She smiled broadly and her hand slid up to frame his jaw.

He used his bandaged hand to brush a few stray curls from her face before leaning in to soundly kiss her. Her lips were soft against his chapped ones, but they met him with equal fervor. After they pulled back, he tilted forward his head, resting his forehead against hers.

“You’re a rare man, Phillip,” Anne murmured, her breath on his chin. “You know that?”

Phillip placed a second peck on her mouth, a smile curling his lips. “Oh please. I’m a dime a dozen. There’s plenty of rich white boys out there. But you, Anne . . . I’ve never met another woman like you.”

Her hands pulled at some strands of hair at the back of his neck. “Ain’t no other couple like us, that’s for sure.”

Phillip’s face was close to hers, noses brushing. “That’s okay right?” He whispered to her, blue eyes searching her almond brown ones. The third kiss that she initiated was soft and tender and made Phillip feel as if he were holding the world in his hands. He smiled into it, humming against her lips. When she pulled back, he couldn’t help but follow her a bit, missing the feel of her against him. “I’ll take it that’s a yes?” He breathed, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Anne wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning forward and resting her head against his chest. He leaned back, pulling her with him so they were sitting more comfortably on the sofa. His nerves from his confrontation earlier with his parents, probably the last he’d see of them for a long time, had calmed significantly. Anne was falling asleep on his chest, one arm slung gingerly over his abdomen. He pulled his arm tighter around her curled up figure, her skin warm and soft where her rehearsal chemise rode up.

He would miss his parents of course. Not the small-minded, cruel side of them, but he would miss the people who raised him.

After all, without them, he wouldn’t be here, holding his entire world at his fingertips.

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much information on circuses circa late 1800s, so I made assumptions on the use of caravans and the tents. I felt that Phillip wouldn't stay in an apartment in an effort to have equality among himself and the performers, but that's just my own inference of his character. Also, a word above used was quadroon, which simply is any children resulting from the pairing of a mulatto parent and a white parent.


End file.
